The Lovedrunk and The Just Plain Drunk
by Charlie Sparks
Summary: Alfred found himself wandering aimlessly with a heartache... Until he found refuge and... Joy? In a bar. Happy happenings. AmericaXEngland R&R 3


**Indulgence Isn't A Cover-Up**

**A/N:** Featuring Alfred(America) and Arthur(England)

Umm... Can't think of anything to say. Hope you like this. xD

Read and Review~

"Where do I... Go now...?"

Rain started falling gently on his forehead as he stared up into the dark, gray sky. The water was slowly starting to trail into his blonde hair; pelting against his glasses, perched in front of his eyes that had the color of clear blue skies.

Everyone else was running, taking cover from the drizzle that was gradually getting more violent. He just stood there, not minding how cold the water hitting his face was. Not minding how it was starting to hurt.

"Hey, watch it!" An albino raged as he ran into him, giving him an evil glare with his flaring red eyes. As quickly as he hit the other, the albino turned away and went into what looked like a bar that stood unexpectingly infront of them. The light that temporarily shone on him was bright. Bright enough to tear him away from his aimless daze.

He decided to enter.

Although, strangely enough, as he opened the door, how bright it was the moment the albino entered was how dark it was when _he_ did.

"Sorry, mister, this place opens at seven, aru," someone from his side told him. This man had Oriental features that made him look feminine, if it weren't for his voice. He had hazel eyes, and his sleek black hair was tied up in a low but neat ponytail. His tone and his looks would instantly make anyone assume he was Chinese.

He didn't respond.

"Umm... Mister?"

"Yao, what is the problem?" Another poked in, this one was tall, having glinting, purple eyes, and silvery gray hair, almost the color of snow, not to mention a strong Russian accent.

"Well, nothing, really... It's just this guy went in here, aru, but he's just spacing out."

"I am quite sorry, friend, but this bar opens at seven, so if I could just ask you to come by later-" The tall one said, preparing to grab the stranger by the arm.

"Ve~, what's all the ruckus about here?" Another one made an appearance, this one having reddish-brown locks, a twirl of it sticking out for some unexplainable reason. No doubt he was Italian.

"It's this guy, aru," the Chinese explained again, pointing to the source of attention, "he just went in, then I told him we're not opened yet, but he's just spacing out, aru..."

The blonde blankly looked at the new arrival.

"Ve~, don't be harsh, don't you see he's drenched? And there's just only a few minutes 'till bar time." Hearing the rain suddenly getting heavier outside, "oh, he's lucky he got in before it really poured!" Turning to the stranger, "you're soaking wet! Come now, let's get you dried," he said as he helped the other take off his jacket, hanging it on the rack. "Yao, kindly get him a towel to dry himself off with, and Ivan, get him something to drink, on the house."

"Okay," the two said in duet.

"That's like him, da?" Ivan said when they were out of earshot.

"This isn't really new," Yao sighed in reply, grinning as he watched the Italian.

"Ve~, are you alright?"

The blonde just looked at him, and gave him a small nod.

"Feliciano, who the fuck's that?" An annoying voice prodded.

The imposer somewhat realized what was happening, snapping away from his temporarily hazy mental state, but remaining silent. He saw the next guy come in, this one had brown hair with a twirl sticking out, as well. He and the first one looked surprisingly alike, the blonde thought.

"Oh, Romano..." Feliciano chuckled, "Yao and Ivan found him, they said he just went in and spaced out, they also told him that the place doesn't open 'till seven, but I saw that he was drenched so I let him in. Then I asked Yao to get him a towel and Ivan get him a drink."

"Feliciano... Ugh," Romano sighed in frustration. "You can't just take in stray cats whenever you want! It's just so fucking wrong, dumbass!"

"Ve~, it's fine, Romano! Look at him! And he's not a cat!"

"Oh, fuck..." Out of exasperation, he mantled his face with his hand. "You know what?"

"What?"

"At this rate, our bar's gonna get fuckin' bankrupt."

"I'll take care of him, don't worry..."

"Tch," Romano spat. "You always say that." He eyed the imposer from head to foot. "You got any cash on you?"

"Romano! Ve~, that's rude!"

Not minding the efforts of the other, the blonde looked at him and nodded.

"Good." To his brother, "fine. He can stay." And with that, he took off for the kitchen.

"Here you go, boss," the Chinese and the Russian said as they handed the stranger the towel and the drink. He took it gratefully, swinging the towel over his shoulders, holding the glass. The two nodded and took off again.

"Come on, let's sit you somewhere ," the Italian insisted, escorting him to an empty seat at the bar counter. "There," he said when the latter settled down. "The person I was talking to earlier, the one who looked like me is my brother, Lovino, but instead, he likes it better to call him Romano. We own this place." He chuckled, "Oh, silly me. I forgot to tell you my name. I'm Feliciano, by the way. What's yours?"

It was a good thing he was himself enough for this.

"Alfred," he answered promptly, as if minimizing his use for words.

"Ve~, that's a nice name," he giggled. "Anyway, I'll have to leave you here for now. I have to check on the kitchen. If you need something, just call me, okay?"

He nodded.

Alfred set down the drink to dry himself. He sprawled the fluffy towel onto his head, and rubbed it vigorously, removing his glasses in the process, drying whatever he could. After getting reasonably dry enough, he curiously turned to the drink and took it in his hands. Thinking it was something warm, he drank it all down with one big glug. He panted when he finished.

Sapphire martini.

Casual Italian vermouth with a Russian touch; vodka was used instead of gin. Not really what he thought of 'a nice warm drink after getting drenched in the rain', though. But somehow, the burning sensation that ran from his lips down his esophagus managed to shake him into consciousness and finally make him realize everything in a much clearer point of view.

"Oh, God, what hell am I doing here?" He voiced to himself.

"Well, as from what I see, you're sitting there. And you're drinking," someone answered from behind the counter.

Alfred glanced at him.

"Francis? You _work_ here?"

"Part time. Not really for the money, though. I work here because it's fun," he answered, his words marinated with a French accent.

"Oh," Alfred just uttered at loss of words.

"What about you? You don't look like the kind of man to walk into a bar _alone_," the French said, raising an eyebrow in speculation.

Alfred didn't pay attention to the heavily emphasized last word. "It was raining outside, so I looked for somewhere dry. Then I noticed this place was just standing in front of me, so I went in."

"Oh, well, that's..." he started, "believable." Francis smirked a mischievous one. "Where's Kiku?"

"Well... I... He..." Sadness clouded his features as he thought of a cover up. Luckily, he didn't have to.

Somebody entered the place as the clock chimed seven. He was blonde, had glasses over his blue eyes, and appeared to be timid. He glimpsed at either sides, as if looking for someone, then strained to see past the counter. His face lit up with a soft smile and waved at the person behind it.

Francis waved at him, as well. The other hurried along to meet up with him, but stopped dead in his tracks when he was just four paces away.

"Alfred?"

"Matthew?"

The two blondes blurted out in unison.

And thus, the younger brother found the older brother sitting there, drinking.

"What are you doing here?" The younger brother asked lightly.

"What are _you_ doing here?" The older brother asked offensively.

"Well, I-"

"God, Matthew! Don't tell me you come here often? And here I thought you were working over time!"

"I was! I was!"

"He was," Francis butt in.

Alfred just sighed in a nevermind-it's-as-if-I-could-do-anything-about-it-now manner.

"Nevermind. It's as if I could do anything about it now," he said, sighing and beckoning his brother to sit beside him. "Get me something to drink, Francis. I'll pay for it."

"Oui," Francis replied.

"Alfred... What's wrong?" Matthew questioned, taking a seat beside his brother.

"Huh? What do you mean?" The elder asked, somewhat indifferent.

"I'm getting worried..."

"About what exactly?"

"About you!" Matthew semi-exclaimed. "Look. You don't usually... Well, you _never_ just let things go easily. Like just now, when you saw me. You would normally just throw a fit and start yelling, but instead, you just dropped it and let it go. You're so... Not energetic. You seem so dull. And you look sad. Plus... I don't see Kiku with you. Did something happen?"

"No. Nothing happened. And I'm fine," he plainly said, discreetly avoiding Matthew's eyes.

"Don't lie to me, Al. You and I both know you're bad at lying. Come on, tell me."

He looked at Matthew through sad puppy eyes. Francis interrupted a moment when he slid Alfred's drink to his hands, but kept distance from them right after. He gave Francis a 'thank you' nod.

"Fine. But you have to swear this'll just be between the two of us."

Matthew crossed his heart with his finger and held out his pinky. "I promise."

Alfred took his brother's pinky with his own and started. "Well... Okay, it happened this morning. You see, I was walking to work when I decided to stop by Kiku's place. So I went up to his apartment. I don't usually knock on any of his doors, but he's used to it. And the door wasn't locked. When I was inside, I looked around for any sign of him; he wasn't in the living room, in the kitchen, or anywhere, so I thought he might still be sleeping. Then I decided to check his room. And there. I saw it."

"What did you see? What did you see?" Matthew poked.

He sighed helplessly before continuing, "I saw him, he was cuddled so close by the Greek guy we met at the park a while back. They were cozy in his warm bed. He saw me, then he was alarmed, telling me that it wasn't what it looked like. Then he tried to stand up, only to let me have a look-see that they were both naked under the covers."

Matthew was held agape, wordless.

"Then I told him I was sorry for disturbing them, then I ran off. I think I heard him try to stop me but I wasn' really keen on hearing any of it. After that, I wasn't myself all day."

Words seemed to hide from Matthew as he frantically searched for something to say. At word loss, he settled his hand on his brother's shoulder consolingly.

"Alfred..." He tried. "I didn't know..."

"_You_ don't have to try, either, Mattie. Don't try so hard to find stuff to say, you're just not good at it, either. You're already good just being quiet."

"But-"

"Come on. That's just that. Since I'm a hero, I'll just forget about that one and take this chance to get wild and get over it!" Alfred cheered.

Matthew was somehow relieved. "Francis, a glass of my favorite, please!"

Francis smiled and obliged. "Here you go," he said, handing him his drink after a few moments.

"A toast to getting over!" Matthew said, even though his voice wasn't really cut out for loud remarks like this. Well, at least he tried. He raised his glass to Alfred's.

"Cheers, dear brother!"

Their glasses clinked together, and they drank.

And for the first time after the incident that day, Alfred went back to being his old self again.

_ Ho~hum _

The night went on, stopping for nothing; not letting even a moment go to waste. Alfred had fun at the place. _Fuck, why the hell hadn't I went to these places ages ago_, he thought. He spent hours and hours dancing his ass off, flirting and drinking. Drinking, in hopes of drowning all his woes away. Until he got tired and his legs felt like jello. That's when he decided to go back to sitting at the bar counter.

"Hey," he called to the Russian that gave him the martini earlier. The latter looked at him in question. "Give me something hard to drink."

He nodded with a smile. "Here you go," the Russian said, sliding Alfred's drink in front of him.

"Thanks."

"That vodka is not so hard, though. It's just light, but it's a starter. I'm afraid if you took a hard one right away, you might go wrong. After you finish that, I'll give you something harder, da."

"Okay," he replied, causing the bartender to turn away and attend to other customers. Alfred stared at his clear drink for a moment. "Well, cheers," he told himself. He attempted to gulp the whole thing, but he stopped and winced halfway when he felt an almost painful burn run down his throat. "Fuck, he calls this light? I don't think I want anything harder than this..." Then he drank down whatever was left of his glass.

The edges of his consciousness started to get hazy.

"Hey, snow hair! Gimme one more o' that stuff you gave me! It was hell good!" He shouted at the Russian bartender.

The clock rang eleven.

"He's weak, da," Ivan told Francis, with one of his usual carefree smiles.

"Let him. He'll get used to it." Francis grinned as he plopped a couple of olives in someone's drink.

"Here you go, friend," Ivan said, giving Alfred a big glass of vodka.

"Yeah, thanks!" He hiccupped, taking the drink into his hands. He looked at it for a moment. "God, I fuckin' love 'is stuff!" Alfred blabbered before drinking. After taking a huge gulp, his head dropped dead flat on the counter with his forehead to it.

"Pardon me, but, is this seat taken?"

"No," Alfred said, rolling his head a little to catch sight of who was talking to him. His blood suddenly rushed at shock. "OH, GOD WHAT THE FUCK'S ON YOUR FACE?"

"What? What the bloody hell is it? What?" The other asked in sudden British panic.

Alfred realized something. They were his eyebrows. He shouldn't be rude, he thought at urge, taking up his head again.

"Oh, no. It was just the lighting. Sorry," he apologized.

The Briton frowned at him, unamused. "It's quite alright," he reluctantly said as he finally took his seat.

Alfred stared at him as the other asked for a drink. He's intoxicating, he thought. _The apricot skin, the emerald eyes, the blonde hair that refuses to remain tame..._ He just couldn't help himself. It only seemed that looking away would mean a hundred years' worth of regret. He was so entranced he didn't even realize he was hardly breathing.

"I like you."

"Excuse me, what?" He was about to drink when Alfred interrupted him.

"Nothing, nothing, I didn't say anything," he stammered, unbelieving he just voiced out his thoughts.

"It wasn't nothing, I heard you say something. What was it?" The Briton prodded.

Oh, how indulging the sound of his voice was.

To Alfred, that is.

"No, I didn't say anything, I swear," he uttered, averting his eyes and drinking from his glass.

The other hissed, and murmured, "stupid American," before drinking from his own.

Alfred spent the rest of his time gawking at the person beside him, inbetween ordering and drinking alcohol. The person didn't notice he was being stared at, nor did he leave the bar counter, saving Alfred from stalking him all over the place.

The clock chimed one.

As conscious as he could get, Alfred noticed how long he spent unknowingly mind raping the man he was so enamored with.

"Oi, Francis, put everything I ordered in my tab, alright? I'll be going home," he yelled, standing up and preparing to leave.

"Oui, oui!" He hollered back through all the noise.

Alfred stood up as well. He followed the man out the door, only stopping to grab his jacket from the rack.

"Hey, he hasn't fucking payed for anything!" Romano shouted.

Alfred was too smitten and too focused on following him to pay attention to anything else. Plus, his thoughts were crowding his mind to even hear anything.

"Just let him. We'll just start a tab," Feliciano said, clinging onto the arm of a brawny, blue-eyed blonde.

The Briton started down the street, putting up his umbrella, as it started to rain again. Annoyed at the heavy footsteps following him, he turned around.

"Would you please stop following me?" He saw Alfred getting rained on. "Oh, it's you again. What the bloody hell do you want from me?" He was drunk. But still conscious.

"Take me with you," Alfred just said.

He wore a puzzled face, an eyebrow raised. "Excuse me?"

"Man, I said, take me with you," he repeated, somewhat getting himself again, but still drunk. "Please?"

"Why should I?" The other retorted, placing a hand to his waist.

"Well... Beacause!"

"Because what?"

He couldn't find an answer to that. He just stared with puppy eyes. "Come on, just take me with you already! Please? Please? _Pleeeeeease_?"

Something hit him. Seeing Alfred the way he was somehow miraculously awakened his conscience that was long locked away a few hundred years back.

He just sighed.

The rain grew harder.

"Oh, come on, just hurry your bloody ass, then. We can share my umbrella," he said, beckoning him.

Alfred's face lit up with a smile that found its way to his face. "Wuhoo~!" He hurried into the other's umbrella and offered to hold it. The Briton obliged since it would be diffuicult to cover up someone taller than him. They walked to his place, talking. Well, it was mostly Alfred who kept the conversation going; oh, what he wouldn't do to continue hearing Briton's alluring voice.

"So, I've noticed you don't come often at the bar. Are you new to that place?" The British asked as he opened the door to his apartment. "You could put your jacket at the rack."

The apartment was big enough for two, the living room was wide and clean, and had a flat screen TV infront of a huge couch.

"Oh, fuck, am I the _only_ one who doesn't go those kind of places?" Alfred said, smothering his face with his hand. "But, yeah. It was my first time to go there. And it was by accident, too. Nice place you got here."

"Thanks. Accident?"

"Hell, yeah! It was raining, so I looked for somewhere dry, and it just so happened that that place was standing right infront of me! It was so cool, the owner gave me a free drink the Russian dude made," he said, hanging his jacket.

"Oh, you mean Ivan."

"Yeah. You know those people?"

"I'm a frequent customer there."

"Oh. Okay. But, there was another reason I stayed there," he added.

"Really? What?"

"I wanted to forget. Fuck, I haven't told you my name yet. I'm Alfred."

"Arthur," the other answered, holding out his hand for a shake.

Oh, God, how delicate his hands were, Alfred thought, as he shook hands with him.

"You can let go now," Arthur said, snapping him back to earth.

"Oh, sorry."

"It's... Fine," he said, taking back his hand. "Anyway, forget what?" He gestured him to take a seat on the couch.

Alfred's face mellowed down, draining all cheer. Noticing this, Arthur quickly recoiled, "you don't have to answer if it's too personal."

He remained silent, and sat down. His mind raced rapidly about things that happened between he and Kiku, about the day that had just flashed past him, about how the hell he was going to suck it up, forget everything and get over it.

"You alright?" Arthur interrupted his contemplating.

"Huh? Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Thanks," he said, finding it hard to tear away from his pondering.

"Okay, then. Well, I'm going to take a quick shower. If you like, you could take a warm bath, and I'll lend you a change of clothes. It'll be really inconvenient if caught a cold, wouldn't it?" He said, entering in his room, and hauling a couple of fresh towels from his closet.

"You sure? I mean, I don't want to impose or anything," Alfred said, voice a bit louder, so as to be heard. He sighed and looked around.

"Don't be silly, it's fine," Arthur answered, picking out clothes for them to slip into. "Ah, here we go," he muttered to himself as he found a a button-up shirt and pj's, "I hope this fits him."

Alfred noticed something. Arthur's sudden attitude change; he wasn't as aggressive as before; nor as irritable. He was a lot kinder, a whole lot more softer. _I wonder what happened_, he thought, _maybe that's how he is when he's drunk_. Whatever it was, he didn't care; he liked him better this way. Then the thought of him preparing a change of clothes-something a dedicated wife would do, caused a sudden random thought to gush past his mind; Athur in an apron. Adorable. That thought stapled itself over the depressive ones he was racking through earlier.

"Here you go," he said, handing the fresh set of clothes to Alfred. "You can take a bath as soon as I'm finished. Or would you want to go first?"

Alfred looked at him, meeting his emerald eyes. Abruptly, he found it hard to breathe. Fortunately, he managed to mouth, "it's fine, you go on," with minimal voice. Arthur nodded and shuffled off to the bathroom.

The fragrance of the clothes lingered. They smelt like fabric conditioner. The one Matthew uses.

He was left there, still in a state of astonishment as the image of Arthur and his glistening green eyes woudn't leave his head. "Fuck, I think I love him now," he told himself, taking his face into his hands and heaving a big, heavy sigh. "Hey, who knows... Maybe he won't leave me like Kiku did..." He weighed out his options, thinking of the pros and cons if, in case, he lets himself indulge to loving Arthur. "Hey, maybe I will. But," he thought again. "Should I tell him tonight? I mean, we only _did_ just meet..."

"You can take over now," the Briton told him, stepping out of the bathroom, fully clothed, with a towel over his head, drying his hair. Alfred was surprised by how quick his 'quick shower' was. Either that, or he didn't notice how long he spent thinking his brain off. He stood up and headed for the bathroom. "I'll take out a pillow and some sheets for you," he added. Alfred nodded.

He took a nice warm bath, and God knows how awesome it was. The shirt and pj's Arthur lent him fit perfectly. He hung his clothes at the bathroom when he finished. He then went to the living room to, hopefully, get to bed. It was already two in the morning.

"Here you go. All set," Arthur said as he smoothed out the sheets on the couch.

He was just so damn accomodating. If he didn't like it, or if he was really paying _that_ much attention, he would've thought it weird. He just seemed like the British type that had the temper shorter than an eyelash. Either way, he liked it.

"I feel like total shit right about now..." Alfred uttered.

"How come?"

"Oh, you heard me?"

"Well, I wouldn't've asked if I didn't, now, would I?" Arthur asked with a teasing grin.

"My bad. It's just that my mind was full so..."

"I understand. It's fine."

"Thanks..." Alfred said with a sad, forced smile. Somehow, the intoxication left by the alcohol was wearing off.

Arthur was at word loss, his mouth hanging half-open. Subconsciously, he got smitten. He dearly wanted to do something to comfort him, but he couldn't seem to find anything.

Putting a stop to his hopeless search for words, Alfred said, almost whispering, "Thanks for the clothes and the sheets and, well, everything."

He nodded.

"Good night."

Arthur scampered for words, "y-yes. Good... Night."

Although thay gave out their good night's, their eyes still chose to remain glued to eachother. It was...

Captivating. Absolutely captivating.

Wordless.

Alfred felt his heart plummet to his stomach; Arthur felt his pound faster. They both held their breaths. No one even dared to break away from the other's gaze.

"Well, I guess, we should get to bed, now," Alfred said, lacing his hands together and looking down, so as not to let the other see how much blood came rushing to his face.

"I... You're right. Well... I'll be going, then. Good night," he answered, face flushed as well. With a final nod, he retreated to his room, leaving Alfred alone in the living room again, sitting quietly on the couch. He heaved out one last sigh, and lied flat on his back.

Even the sheets smelt like the fabric conditioner Matthew uses.

He honestly tried to sleep. It was hard. He didn't feel like sleeping yet. Adrenaline somewhat picked up ever since his eyes met with Arthur's. That head of his started racing with thoughts again.

What was a few moments to Alfred was already an hour in real life.

He heard the bedroom door creek open.

Arthur saw him awake, pillow in his arms, and his head tilted toward him. "Sorry... Did I wake you?"

He shook his head. "What are you doing still up?"

Arthur smiled, embarrased. "I couldn't sleep, so I thought of getting some air," he glanced at the balcony, "shouldn't I ask you the same question?"

"Funny you should ask," Alfred chuckled as he pushed himself to sit up. "I couldn't sleep, either."

"Oh. Then, mind if I join you?"

"N-No, not at all," he stammered, "here." He still clutched the pillow close to him, moving a bit to give way to Arthur. He sat gratefully next to him.

Silence.

"You know," Alfred started, causing Arthur look at him in question. "The thing I said I wanted to forget... You still wanna know what it was?"

"Well, if you want to tell me, go ahead," he answered, taking a moment to steal a glimpse of him, only to meet his enticing eyes, but broke away as soon as he met them. He felt his face flush again.

"That doesn't really answer my question, but, what the hell, I'll tell you anyway," sighing was beginning to be a habit of his. "You see, I had this one, special person that I love... He never-"

"What? _He_?" Arthur thought, but decided to keep it to himself, so as not to be rude.

"-failed to make me feel how much he loved me. He always told me _how_ much he loved me. And, whenever I was with him, it always felt like I was under ecstasy. It's as if-as if the whole world could just end, like the movie 2012, and I wouldn't give a fuck about it because I was too happy being with him, and he was happy being with me. But, then again, that was just what I thought. This morning when I decided to drop by his house, when I opened the door to his room, I saw that he was in bed."

He paused, Arthur asked, "what's wrong with that?"

"He was in bed with someone else. I found him cuddling that Greek dude who liked cats. He saw me, so he tried to stand up, but then I saw them naked under the sheets. Hell, I felt like bullshit when I saw them the way they were. I ran away after that, he tried to stop me, though, but I didn't bother to listen. What I saw was proof enough. Fuck, I wasn't myself all day long. Even my brother got worried about me."

"Alfred..." Arthur unconsciously uttered. He was hesitant, but he put his hand on Alfred's shoulder, in hopes of comforting him.

He smiled a sad, helpless smile. He was reminded of Matthew. "That's what my brother did, too." At Arthur's puzzled expression, he explained, "that one," he pointed to the other's hand, "he did that, too."

He took Arthur's hand in his, making him flush fiercely. The pillow he held close fell as he examined Arthur's hand and felt it, "your hands are soft."

"I use lotion."

Arthur really didn't mind whatever Alfred was doing with his hand. He unconsciously nestled Arthur's hand to his face; he was reminded of Kiku's hand. _I don't need him no more, I've got Arthur now_, he thought.

"Think you could give me a chance?"

Arthur's heart jolted. Although he had a pretty good idea where this was leading to, he still decided to ask, "at what?"

"You know, at that."

"You mean... Love?"

Alfred nodded, not looking at him, instead poured, all attention to the hand he was fondling affectionately against his face. It wasn't really like him to be this way, being cheesy and all. He usually lets his actions speak for him. Like the thing he's doing with Arthur's hand.

"Well, I-"

"You don't have to answer right away, th-though," he stuttered, cutting Arthur without meaning to, "I understand, since we just met and all. It's just that when I saw you," he breathed, "it's kind of like the love at first sight crap that Francis always blabbered about, so..."

"You know, I just have to admit that when I saw you at the bar earlier, I was utterly irritated with you," he paused a second as Alfred's grip on his hand lightened, "but when I got to know you, it just seemed as though the world shook me awake."

"Is the-world-shaking-you-awake part a good thing?"

"Well, if you call 'me actually liking you' a good thing, then, yes. Yes, it is."

Alfred's face lit up with a smile, holding the other's hand tighter again. Arthur put his free hand on the American's shoulder and leaned close to look into his azure eyes. Alfred once again felt the burning sensation in his chest, making it difficult to breathe; this was accompanied by his heart pumping harder, feeling it getting closer and closer to his throat as if he were to burp it out whole.

He didn't realize he tightened the grip on Arthur's hand, nor that he held the Briton's face close to his with his free one, returning the passionate gaze the other was giving him. Arthur knew what was coming next; he had a knack for this. Well, either that or it was just plain obvious.

Alfred leaned closer, tilting his head a bit, so as to aim for the perfect angle. The Briton, in turn, decided that the American was taking too long, if you consider flashing seconds slow. He was growing impatient, so he bent a bit more, enough to reach the other's lips and scored a direct hit. A few moments later, he let go.

"Know what? I've always thought the British were horrible kissers."

"Really now? What the bloody hell do you think about them now?"

"They're as awesome as hell."

He smirked as Alfred held him by the back of his neck, preventing him from adding distance between them. Then, Alfred kissed him back. This time was longer, and more passionate.

_Ho~hum_

Sunlight crept its way through the spaces in the curtains. One of those rays incidentally hit Alfred directly on his eyes. This must be God's way of waking him up. He did, eventually.

He yawned as he rubbed his eyes with his free hand. He noticed something was wrapped around his other arm.

"Good morning, Alfred."

He glanced to look at what it was.

"G'morning, Artie." They were both heaped up together in a pile of still-clean sheets. He realized his button-up shirt was, well, buttoned down, making him scream shortly, causing Arthur to scowl, and exclaimed, "_what the fuck happened last night_?"

"Halfway through stripping me down, you fainted."

He took a look under the sheets and recoiled, "oh, wait. I still have pants on... My bad." He gave Arthur a stupid, but apologetic smile.

"You're hopeless."

"And that's why I love you," Alfred sighed, giving Arthur a small kiss on the cheek.

Arthur smiled at him helplessly.


End file.
